The two tapirs, horsemen and chariots, lined up evenly on the ground back of the men in black. The object of the game was to cross the board diagonally from end to end—capturing as many men as possible on the way. The first side to place three foot-soldiers in a row was the winner. In no circumstance was a man in black to touch a white square. He must always keep on the black square. A throw of dice determined the movements of the participants. Five moved the Priest of the Bow, and he could go forward and backward as he pleased, but he was liable to be caught around the waist and flung off the board the same as the men in black. A four-spot moved the tapir. This meant that one man moved forward four blocks, while the tapirs headed for the four cardinal points, to denote the number of times they had been moved. Three spots moved the horsemen; two, the chariots; and one, the men in black. The musicians played a lively air. Then the game began. Groups of priests stood on each side shouting instructions, warnings and words of encouragement to the players, who were obliged to follow the lead of their Priest of the Bow. Only the first two moves depended on the dice; after that is was every player for himself, counting in succession, five, four, three, two, one. It was a strange sight for the spectator. Apparently, without any good reason, the horsemen, the tapirs and the chariots were wheeling north, south, east and west, while the black men pushed forward rapidly, seizing and flinging one another off the board, until, finally, a mighty shout went up, and three men in black stood in a row facing Kerœcia. The tapirs, chariots and all but one horseman of the vanquished side had gone over to the victors, while on the board there were but two black men and the Priest of the Bow to oppose the winners. “Beaten by a headless band! Bah! Bah! Bah!” vociferated the adherents of the victors. “Score five against them!” was the imperious demand of the vanquished. The cazique hammered vigorously on the big copper gong, while the trumpeters blew three sharp blasts as a signal to clear the grounds, and as if by magic every block of marble went with the crowd. From the judges’ stand, opposite the pavilion, ran up a banner, with figures in black on a white ground. It awarded the game by two points, giving red ribbons to the three foot-soldiers who had gained the coveted goal. “We are obliged to count five against the victors, since they lost their Priest of the Bow after their first move. Had they protected him, they would have won all possible points.” Mingled cries of “Ho-ra! Ho-ra!” and “Bah! Bah! Bah!” greeted this announcement. * * * * * The Baggataway players next appeared, led by Setos, Alcamayn, Hanabusa, and ten gamy Azes, followed by Ben Hu Barabe with twelve athletic-looking Monbas. This was their national game, and Ben Hu Barabe felt a pardonable pride in his men as he led them into position.